Complications
by roseake
Summary: 'An AU where for your entire life you've only seen black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate' A prompt that caught my interest, so I wrote an additional scene for Caretaker to accommodate it.


Inspired by a post on tumblr, but I changed it up a little from only seeing _black and white_ until they touch their soulmate to _washed-out pastel _colours; for practical reasons, otherwise things would get confusing. But the idea caught my eye and I decided to run with it and write a scene from Caretaker in this AU.

This is un-beta'd so all mistakes/bad grammar/poor writing is mine. And all that usual disclaimer stuff about not owning anything. I am but a poor humble student.

=/\=

The man stood in front of her in his newly-replicated Starfleet uniform with a surprising air of calm about him. He'd lost his ship, his crew, his position as captain, and was being forced to adapt to conditions that he'd chosen to reject more than a year earlier. There was a slight pinch to his eyes, as if he was still assessing the situation - assessing her - but apart from that they were clear, and his expression was neutral.

She is aware that she's using the desk in her ready room as a barrier between them, to avoid opening a dialogue with the dark man who had beamed onto her bridge hours earlier. They would be working together closely for a very long time - the length of time still took her breath slightly when she thought about it - and first impressions were crucial. But how do you start a casual, friendly conversation with a man whom you have just stripped of everything he knows?

Shaking her head slightly, she took a breath and made to move around her desk.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" His deep voice broke through the silence and brought her up short.

Janeway stared at him for a beat, "Excuse me?"

He nodded towards the holoimage on her desk, angled so that he had a clear view of the figures on the screen, "Your dog, is it a boy or a girl?"

She picked it up and stroked a thumb across the edge, feeling the pang in her chest that would no doubt become familiar in nights to come.

Looking back up at him, he had one dark eyebrow raised slightly, she smiled, "It's a girl, her name is Molly."

Chakotay smiled in return, and she noticed his dimples for the first time. One on each cheek.

"My aunt had a red setter just the same, he kept us all in line as children," the dimples grew deeper and she had a sudden vision of that grin on the face of a young boy.

Placing the picture back on the desk, she folded her hands behind her back and wandered towards the large viewport. Looking out at the expanse of space that was totally and completely alien was unpleasant. It held a churning unknown, full of uncharted stars and planets that Starfleet had never even considered, and Janeway felt very small. Small and alone, with her half-formed, ramshackle crew. The weight of the journey ahead settled on her shoulders so suddenly that it made her audibly gasp and her eyes slide closed.

She was concentrating on the feeling of her feet on the carpet when she heard movement beside her. Straightening up and opening her eyes, she looked up at the man next to her. His eyes held an understanding that she felt instantly grateful for, despite any differences they may have, and she smiled her reassurance.

One of her hands came up to grip his shoulder in what should have been a silent comfort between comrades, moving from strangers to acquaintances, but something totally unexpected happened instead.

As her fingers pressed into his skin through the fabric of his jacket, the red on his shoulder became so vibrant it almost strained her eyes. Her own skin seemed to glow and the black material on her arm was sharp against the backdrop of her ready room. The effect spiraled outwards, consuming the walls and furniture, which all popped out in blues and greys that were impossibly clear. Even the lighting was brighter, more powerful throughout the room.

Her hand snapped back as if she'd been burned and the world returned to it's usual cool pastels. Vibrancy draining from her surroundings as if some unknown plug had been pulled, but her face felt flushed and her eyes had tears in them - whether they were from shock or the physical assault on her eyeballs she didn't know.

Before she had time to step backwards, his arm lanced out and grabbed her, the colours coming back in a rush. Gasping, her head snapped back to look at him, to ask what the hell he was doing.

Like hers, his skin seemed to glow under the new light. The depth of it was mesmerising, and the tattoo stood out on his forehead like it never had before. His eyes raked over her face, up towards her hair and back down to the collar of her uniform; then back up to her eyes, where they stayed.

She was suddenly aware of how close they were stood, their faces inches apart with his breath rolling soft across her cheek. Covering his hand with her own, she pulled it from her arm and took a step back, keeping the contact between them.

Their eyes still locked, she loosened her grip until just their fingers were intertwined, then dropped them completely. As she expected, the metaphorical plug was pulled again and her breath came out in a rush.

He was still staring at her like she'd grown another head so she cleared her throat nervously, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

Blinking quickly and straightening up from the hunch he'd kept to stay at eye level with her, he shook himself slightly, seeming to come to his senses.

A moment passed between them where they both tried to process what had happened, the implications whizzing through her mind in a flash. Her first thought was of Mark, her fiancé over 70,000 light years away. They had never had this connection, but it was obviously of no consequence.

"This complicates matters," Janeway breathed, cursing whatever deity or course of evolution that had brought about this ability in the first place.

Chakotay's expression had slipped back to that odd calm as he regarded her with a slight smile, those dimples showing just slightly.

"Or it could make things easier." When she frowned he continued, "At least now we know there's a chance we can work well together."

He had a point, she conceded, but it still made her feel uncomfortable. He seemed to sense this and turned towards her replicator. A few quick strides, he ordered two leaf teas and returned with them, gesturing for her to sit on the sofa.

Taking a sip, he sighed and leaned back, seeming far more at ease than she felt. Turning towards her, he smiled sympathetically.

"My greatest concern was whether or not our personalities would clash," he looked down into his cup, "I'm not too easy to get along with, I'm afraid."

She nodded, understanding his worries, and took a drink from her own tea. They sat in companionable silence for a time, drinking the hot liquid and sharing the moment. A form of bonding, she supposed, that began with even ground and a calm before the storm.

He had said _it_ _could make things easier. _Now that she thought about it, their apparent connection could be of benefit, and it's not like they had to make any drastic changes to their relationship because of it. Just because they were - her mind twisted around the word - _soulmates _wasn't some sort of arranged marriage. They could still take this one step at a time, which actually was vital now more than ever.

Looking back up at him, she found he was studying her from the side, his features soft and warm. Allowing a friendly, genuine smile to tug at her lips, she said "Well, Commander, I hope we'll get along just fine. And we might even get home in the process."

The deep dimples that appeared were her reward, and she looked forward to seeing them more often in the future.


End file.
